


Not Quite Roshomon

by MaxWrite



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-05
Updated: 2012-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-29 00:18:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/313759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaxWrite/pseuds/MaxWrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While on shore leave, the crew gets arrested. Now they just need to figure out why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Quite Roshomon

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Happy Trekmas](http://happy_trekmas.livejournal.com) 2011\. The title is taken from the 1950s film [Roshomon](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0042876/), for which the [Roshomon Effect](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rashomon_effect) is named, according to Wikipedia. Though this is _not quite_ that. Hence the title.

Jim was annoyed. Not just because this mess was cutting into his vacation time, but also, and more importantly, because he wasn't sure why.

"I can't believe this is really standard practice," Bones grumbled from behind Jim who was still standing at the invisible force field, peering out at the red door at the opposite end of the empty, stone corridor. "How can you not fully inform a suspect of their supposed crime at the time of arrest? It's unjust!"

"Maybe so," said Jim absently, "but this isn't our planet. These aren't our laws."

"The Seronans are not an unreasonable people," Spock chimed in, also from behind Jim. "They are merely cautious. Maintaining at least the appearance of complete harmony is their primary goal. As I am certain that we have done nothing wrong, I am confident we will be released shortly, provided we cooperate."

"Reasonable people my ass," muttered Bones. "You _tell_ a man what he's done before you go tossing him into a cell."

"They just wanna see what else we might confess to," Jim said calmly, though his brow furrowed as he craned his neck. There were people moving outside the red door, but he couldn't see anything. The glass in the door's small, square window was frosted. All Jim could make out were the fuzzy, dark shapes of people's heads going by. "Don't confess to anything you didn't do and we'll be fine."

"That ain't the point," Bones said.

Jim inched his nose closer to the invisible force field until he heard the crackling, felt the subtle prickling and saw the bluish flicker that told him he was right up against it. He held his position for a few seconds just to see what might happen.

"I am not fixing you if that thing zaps you, Jim," Bones said. It was the calmest, most rational he'd sounded since they'd been dumped into this cell. Jim smiled as he finally turned away from the force field. Bones and Spock were seated on the metal benches on the opposite side of the ten foot by ten foot room. It was basically a box, no windows or any other types of decoration, unless you counted the little stall containing the toilet. It was gray, drab, empty, echo-y.

"So, now what?" asked Bones.

"We wait," Jim said simply. "The others will eventually realize we're in trouble and come get us."

"What if they won't let us go?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. It's fine, Bones. We've got four other people out there. One of them is bound to go looking for one of us soon."

The mechanical swish of a door opening caught Jim's ear. He spun around and went back to the force field, stepped too close, too quickly, and was bounced back with a sizzle, a pop and a flicker, not to mention a great deal more discomfort than the mere prickling he'd felt before. He stumbled back, but quickly caught himself and glared at the force field as he approached again, this time more carefully. He ignored Bones's "hmph" noise.

His spirits lifted upon seeing Lt. Uhura being escorted to the cell by two Seronan officers, but his mood shift was short-lived. When the trio stepped up to the force field, it was clear by the look on Uhura's face – jaw set, eyes pointedly avoiding Jim's – and by the fact that she didn't speak a word, that she was not there to rescue them.

By the time she was deposited inside the cell and the force field reengaged, Spock and Bones had stood. They were both asking questions, but Uhura said nothing, and neither did Jim, both of whom were waiting for Uhura's escorts to exit through the red door. Once Jim heard the door swish closed, both he and Uhura looked at each other and asked in unison, "What did you do?"

"Nothing!" they both replied.

"Great, glad we cleared that up," said Bones.

"One down, three to go," Jim said to himself. The others were too deeply engaged in conversation to hear him.

"They have yet to tell us anything, either," Spock informed Uhura.

"Well, that's preposterous!" she declared. "They have to tell us what we've done."

"Maybe _you_ should start doing a little 'fessing up," Bones suggested to her.

"I beg your pardon? I haven't done anything."

"Well, neither have the three of us, so that leaves you."

"There's nothing I could've done that would've gotten us all arrested. I spent the morning with Gaila, we got our hair and nails done, then we parted ways for a bit and we were supposed to meet up for lunch at this restaurant, but I was having trouble finding it …"

 

  
**Nyota**   


Nyota walked through the crowd of tourists and locals, hoping Gaila might pop up somewhere. They were supposed to meet at some place called Celar's Hideaway for lunch, but she had no idea where that was. The beach was to her right, a grassy strip of park area to her left, and separating the two was a long stretch of wide, wooden walkway, the boardwalk, teeming with families, couples and groups of laughing friends. Most were in shorts, tank tops or bathing suits. It was a gorgeous day on Seronus V.

Up ahead was a block of vendors selling everything from food to souvenirs. Nyota decided the restaurant must be there somewhere and headed that way. As she approached a small, wooden bridge situated over top of a little river, she noticed a familiar, lone figure approaching the bridge from the opposite direction. He got to it before she did and stepped out of the crowd to stand off to the side and hunch over the bridge's safety railing. He stared into the distance, toward the beach.

"Pavel," she called as she approached. Pavel looked her way, squinted at her in the sun and smiled. She went up to him.

"Hello, Nyota," he said. It was immediately clear that he wasn't his usual, chipper self. The somber tone of his voice suited neither him, nor the beautiful day.

"What are you doing here all alone?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Sight seeing. Like everyone else. What are _you_ doing all alone?"

She detected an edge of defensiveness in his voice. Pavel never did take kindly to the suggestion that he couldn't do things on his own. "I'm on my way to meet Gaila. Hey, you haven't seen a place called Celar's Hideaway, have you?" Pavel shook his head. "Never mind, I'll find it. Do you want to tag along? We're just going to have lunch and then decide what to do from there."

"No, but thank you." Pavel looked out across the beach again. Nyota followed his eyes and saw a group of people retreating, heading towards a small, straw hut. They were unusually tall and very tan. Nyota recognized them as Glabrosians. She'd seen quite a few of them around since arriving here. They must have been on shore leave too.

"Do you know them?" she asked.

"No," Pavel replied and he said nothing more. Nyota examined him again. She couldn't tell if the look on his face indicated trouble or if the sun was just in his eyes, but the way his hands wouldn't keep still meant something. He was a fidgety thing anyway, but he was methodically brushing his thumbs over the nails of each finger – right thumb over the right nails, left over the left ones – and then finishing by brushing the thumbnails with his index fingers, over and over again, one nail at a time. He'd start with the right hand and go index, middle, ring, pinkie, then thumb, then switch to the left to repeat the pattern there. And then he'd do it all over again.

"You think too much," Nyota decided aloud, shaking her head. "You're on vacation, Pavel, try to relax."

"I am perfectly relaxed."

"Of course you are, sweety." She reached out and touched his hands. They stopped moving and he looked at her. "Come with me. You can talk about whatever's bothering you. Gaila and I are great listeners."

"I am fine, really. I can spend an afternoon by myself. I don't need anyone to hold my hand."

"Well, all right. But it's not bad, you know, needing someone's hand to hold." She nodded at his hands. "Might help with the fidgeting too." She gently touched his back and, knowing he wasn't about to change his mind about coming with her, she said goodbye and reluctantly left him. He brought out the big sister in her so strongly, but she knew when to quit.

She searched for ten more minutes, but Celar's was nowhere to be found, so she ducked into a sleepy little bar to ask for directions. It was barely noon, so the place was virtually empty. It was dim despite the windows, not that there were many of them. A few small groups of people were huddled in corners or at tables chatting while others were seated alone at the bar. The walls were lined with autographed photos of people Nyota didn't recognize and torches lit with what she could only hope were artificial flames. The place seemed to be constructed mainly of wood, the floor even creaked in certain spots, and it looked as though one stray spark might set the whole thing ablaze. The place had a certain rickety charm and looked like it had been there for ages.

She breezed into the place, her sheer, flowing sarong fluttering about her legs. She removed the rather large-brimmed hat she was wearing lest it accidentally touch one of the torches (that was not the way she wanted to test the authenticity of those flames) and stepped up to the bar.

The barman – a broad, squarish, mean-looking bald man with a goatee and a thick rod made of what looked like bone stuck through his bottom lip – approached her. "What can I get for you?" he asked in a gentler voice than she'd expected.

"Yes, hi, can you tell me where Celar's Hideaway is? I can't seem to find it."

While he gave her directions, she could feel someone approaching behind her. She ignored the presence until she'd gotten all her directions, then when the barman took his leave, she turned to find the tallest, most statuesque woman she'd ever seen standing behind her.

She was a Glabrosian, that much was obvious. They were a tall race, the shortest adults starting at around six feet, six inches. This woman was at least that, probably taller. She had a subtle silvery shimmer to her naturally tan skin, long, straight, black hair, large, completely black eyes and enviable bone structure, her cheek bones high and sharp. It looked like she might be able to crack walnuts in the crook of her arm. She wasn't bulky by any means, but clearly quite strong, and even if she'd been human size, her physique would have been intimidating. It was being shown off in a silver bathing suit that clung to her like liquid metal. Her bottom half was covered by a pair of tight, black shorts, but just barely. Her thighs were thick and strong-looking.

Of course, Nyota wasn't intimidated. Nothing about this woman's approach suggested she was looking for a fight.

"What are you drinking?" the woman asked in a voice so low and sensual, it brought images of rivers of molasses to Nyota's mind.

"Heh," Nyota chuckled to herself. She shook her head. "Oh, Gaila, very funny."

"I'm sorry?"

"Were you, by chance, directed to me by an Orion woman?"

The woman frowned in confusion. "No."

Nyota shrugged, not quite believing her. "I'm not drinking anything, thank you. I'm not staying."

"Well, let's work on that, shall we?" The woman leaned casually against the bar on Nyota's left.

"There's nothing to work on, I'm afraid. I'm flattered, really, but I've got a friend waiting for me, so –"

"That scrawny kid?"

"What scrawny … Oh, Pavel. No, someone else."

"You looked awfully friendly with him."

Nyota smirked. "Have you been spying on me?"

"Spying? Mm, let's just say it's been difficult to keep my eyes off you." Nyota laughed. "Sounds better, doesn't it?"

"Much. Still, I can't say you're my usual type."

"What's your usual type?"

"Penises, mainly."

"I see. Pity. You know on some planets, that's considered a sickness."

"Oh, really? What, having a penis or liking them?"

"Both. Might wanna have someone take a look at you. Might be able to do something about it."

Nyota had to laugh again. On a different day she might've been offended that her sexual preference was being made fun of, but the day was too beautiful and this woman was too smooth to not be entertaining. Well, there were still at least ten minutes or so before Nyota was to meet Gaila. Was it wrong to see where this might go? Especially considering that Nyota wasn't convinced this woman hadn't been sent by Gaila to hit on her as a joke.

"My name is Seona," said the woman.

"Nyota."

They shook hands and Seona flagged down the barman with her long, graceful fingers. Nyota allowed herself a drink, the fruitiest, least alcoholic thing she could order without seeming like a prude.

"I can't allow you to buy this for me," she said, picking up the little tumbler of blue liquid when it was set down before her. Seona picked up the bottle she'd been given. "I don't like the feeling that I owe anybody anything."

"All I ask is a few minutes of your time."

Nyota smiled regretfully. "I'm afraid I won't be changing my mind about that penis thing."

"Well, it was worth a shot." Seona gave her the once-over with her dark eyes. "It was most definitely worth a shot."

Nyota grinned. "Can't say I'm not enjoying the attention, though. Is that terrible? That's terrible, isn't it?"

"Not at all. At worst, you've spent a few minutes having a wonderful conversation with a stranger who thinks you're beautiful. No harm in that."

"Well, I'll drink to that." Nyota raised her glass, clinked it against Seona's bottle and they both sipped their drinks.

"I have to say your hands are gorgeous," Nyota remarked. Seona's fingers even held the bottle with grace, as though it was something much more delicate than it was. Then again, in the grip of her large hand it probably was in danger of being crushed by accident. "It's your language," said Nyota. "I know that Glabrosian is part verbal, part gesticulatory." She took Seona's free hand to examine her fingers more closely. "They're so long and graceful. I noticed it as soon as you approached me, the way your hands move, it's so fluid."

Seona didn't reply, so Nyota looked up at her and found her watching serenely.

"Don't stop," Seona said. "I'm enjoying watching you."

Nyota smiled and gave Seona her hand back. "I really do find your language fascinating, though, the way the slightest change in a gesture can make a word or phrase mean something completely different. It's so complicated and lovely. I'm fluent in several languages, but this I have yet to master."

"I could teach you a few things if you'd like."

They put their drinks down and Seona taught Nyota gesture and word combinations ranging in meaning from "hello" to "yes, I'll come home with you". The latter made Nyota laugh.

"I am not saying that," she said.

"All right, fine. How about this instead: I'm quite pleased to meet you." She made lovely movements with her hands on the words "pleased" and "meet". Nyota mimicked her gestures as best she could and repeated the phrase, garnering praise from Seona.

"Very good. _Almost_."

Nyota winced. "I didn't get it right, did I?"

"Your little finger wasn't quite curved correctly. You just told me you were quite pleased to skewer me."

"Oh, dear."

"It was cute, though. I can think of worse ways to die. So, you're not a local, are you?"

"No, I'm on shore leave with my crew mates. We're …" Nyota trailed off, suddenly hearing a familiar voice slicing through the din in the bar. She twisted around and saw the profile of Dr. McCoy sitting a few seats down. There was an intoxicated man on his opposite side who seemed to be slurring at him. Nyota sensed trouble and turned back to her friend. "Um … right, I was saying we're Starfleet. We're only here for a few days."

"Me and my crew are here for the same," said Seona, though now she was distracted by the same drunken man Nyota had noticed. Nyota heard McCoy's voice again and then the drunken man's, but this time the slurring sounded closer. She looked around again and found the drunken man had gotten up from his seat and was right in McCoy's face.

"Oh, no," Nyota mumbled. She was just wondering if she ought to intervene when a loud bang sounded somewhere off in the distance, making her jump and splatter blue liquid down the front of her formerly pristine white bathing suit. She put her drink down and looked toward the direction of the sound, but by now patrons had gathered at the few small windows and Nyota could see nothing.

"I'm going out there," she said, grabbing her hat and and trying to get past Seona. Seona stopped her.

"It might be dangerous."

"My friends are out there. Somewhere."

Seona cocked her head and narrowed her eyes. "The scrawny kid again?"

"Him and others, yes. I've got to go. It was lovely meeting you." Nyota gave her a quick smile and then fled, dashing out of the bar, nudging her way by the others who were drifting outside as well. She heard a commotion behind her, the sounds of the drunken man loudly protesting about something. McCoy would be fine. He could handle himself.

She stepped out and looked toward the little straw hut that Pavel had been staring at. It was there that the explosion had occurred, but the hut itself was fine, seemed undamaged, at least from Nyota's vantage point. There was a column of ominous black smoke rising up into the sky from the area, but there was no way to tell what had exploded. There was no one sitting or lying on the ground, so it appeared no one had been hurt, though several people were moving about the area, fanning smoke out of their faces and yelling at each other.

From behind her, Nyota heard Seona's voice utter a curse in Glabrosian. Nyota turned to look up at her. Seona was staring in disbelief at the hut as well.

"My craft," she said.

"Your what?"

"My hover craft, it's parked over there. My crew mates were headed that way, I was supposed to meet them, but then, well …" She glanced down at Nyota with a smile that said she was pleased to have been distracted. "I have to go." At that, she took off running down the beach, her impressively long, toned legs carrying her away as fast as possible through the sand. Nyota winced as a small child got in her way, but Seona leapt easily over the child and kept right on going.

Nyota scanned the beach, hoping Pavel was still nearby so she could confirm his safety, but she couldn't find him. She wished she'd thought to bring her communicator with her as she set off toward the bridge where Pavel had last been seen.

 

  
*** * ***   


"So, you were hit on by a Glabrosian woman whose hover craft might've been destroyed by an explosion and who thinks Pavel's your boyfriend?" asked Jim.

"That's right," said Uhura. "Now you tell me, what exactly does any of that have to do with us being in here? If anything, I would think that it was Dr. McCoy's bar fight that got us all in trouble."

Everyone looked to Bones.

"There was no fight," Bones said calmly.

"The last thing I saw before I left that bar was that intoxicated man right up in your face. You can't tell me that didn't escalate."

"Oh, it escalated, all right," Bones muttered cryptically.

"What's that mean?" Jim asked. "Bones, any information you have, I suggest you share it."

Uhura crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows at Bones. Bones rolled his eyes.

"There was no fight," he repeated. "I was sitting at the bar, minding my own damn business …"

 

  
**Leonard**   


Leonard liked this place.

Well, it was a little too crowded for his taste, a little too cheery, but it looked like earth, which he appreciated. It was all warm, sandy beaches, grassy, peaceful parks, and friendly vendors offering delicious things. Everywhere he turned, there was someone who wanted to thrust food or beverage samples into his hands.

He could get used to this.

And when all the sunshine and smiles got to be a bit much, it wasn't long before he was able to duck into a dark little bar. He sat at the long counter to have a few drinks in peace and recharge. Just a few minutes. He couldn't sit still for long, anyway.

He sipped his drink and watched the barman polish a glass, then focused on the piercing in the man's lip. At first, the sight of it made Leonard want to ask him what surly gang of teenagers had held a gun to his head to make him get that thing, but then his mind went to all the things that could have gone wrong during its insertion – viruses, parasites, he could've contracted any number of things. And the things that could have gone wrong afterward – nasty infections, or rejection of the piercing altogether which would have been a blessing in Leonard's opinion.

He shook his head and turned away, surveyed the other people instead. His eyes went to the scantily-clad ladies, but rather than enjoying the view, he wondered about one woman's unnaturally straight hair, what potentially dangerous chemical process she'd employed to achieve the look. He frowned at another woman's ridiculously high heels, almost winced as he thought about the hammertoes, the bunions, the potential for ankle injuries, the …

He had to make a conscious effort to stop that train of thought. It had been happening all day long, he'd try to relax and enjoy himself, and as soon as he'd stop moving for five damn minutes his head would fill up with all the ways people like him would have to fix all the things people like _them_ might do to themselves.

But he needed a break, dammit. He was hot, his feet hurt. _Just gimmie a few minutes,_ he said to his own mind, trying to appease it. _Then I'll find you a suitable distraction, all right?_

His distraction came a little sooner than anticipated, but unfortunately manifested in the form of the most obnoxious person on the planet.

The stranger sat a few seats down from him, on his right, ordered the same drink and kept glancing his way. Leonard pointedly ignored him, but kept his ears open.

"I hear Starfleet's in town," the stranger said to the barman. Leonard didn't miss the hint of disdain in his voice.

"A handful of them, yes," replied the barman. "Good for business, they are."

"Hmph. Bunch of troublemakers if you ask me. You think they're merely here to vacation? I doubt it."

"What's that mean?"

"They're meddlers, every last one of them. Can't go anywhere without starting something."

Leonard kept his mouth shut, sipped his drink.

"One of them's over at Izzy's right now with a group of Glabrosians. They're showing him everything, all their technology. He's far too curious if you ask me, far, _far_ too curious."

Leonard downed the last of his first drink and shook his glass in the air. He caught the barman's eye and knew there was a refill on the way. In his periphery he saw the stranger down his own beverage as well and then ask for another.

And so it went for the next thirty minutes.

Well, sort of. The stranger wasn't trying to keep up with Leonard so much as outdo him, making sure to drink twice as much as Leonard in the same amount of time as though trying to prove something. Leonard pretended to pay him no mind while quietly seething inside. What was this fool playing at?

And all the while, the man spewed a constant stream of prejudice against Starfleet. The barman was polite enough in his rebuttals, clearly not wanting to upset the man or drive off a customer by angering him, but as far as Leonard could tell, the barman's well-intentioned efforts were only encouraging the man.

A familiar laugh came from Leonard's left. He glanced that way and spotted Uhura leaning against the bar with a rather tall woman with jet-black eyes and thighs that could crush a man's skull. Leonard watched them for a moment, fascinated and unsure why. There was something familiar about the way the unknown woman was standing, the way she was interacting with Uhura. Had she been a man, Leonard would swear she was flirting, but …

Oh. Well, okay then.

Leonard wanted to watch a bit longer, see where this was going, but then a loud noise from his right made him jump. He turned back toward the stranger and found a pair or human-like eyes on him. In fact, the entire package looked human, but wasn't. That was one thing about this place that unnerved Leonard: the locals looked exactly like humans, down to the hair on their heads. Leonard supposed it shouldn't matter, but he liked to know who he was dealing with.

The barman was pouring the stranger a refill as the stranger continued to stare right at Leonard, his brown eyes glassy in a way that told Leonard he was as sober as a Starfleet cadet on a Saturday night. Which was to say, not at all.

"Can I help you with something?" Leonard asked.

"P'rhaps," the man slurred. "Yer Starfleet, right?"

"Judging by the way you've been antagonizing me since you sat down, I'd say you already know the answer to that."

The stranger smirked. He lifted his refilled glass to his lips and downed the amber liquid in two gulps. He put it back down on the bar hard, apparently asking for another, but the barman finally had the sense to refuse.

"I think you've had enough, Gravis," he quietly said.

The stranger glared at him. "'M a paying customer 'n' I'd like 'nother, please," he said under his breath, his "please" sounding distinctly threatening.

"I think you oughta listen to the man," Leonard informed him. "You've clearly gone over your limit."

"And what d'you know 'bout _our_ limits, Starfleet?" asked the stranger, Gravis, sliding off his stool and approaching Leonard. Leonard put his glass down and swiveled his stool toward him, letting Gravis know that he wasn't afraid and wasn't about to back down from a challenge. Not that Gravis looked like much. He could probably hold his own in a fight, but he was smaller than Leonard, wiry. His floppy, boyish hair and silly, loud shirt didn't help.

"I know a lotta things about a lotta things," Leonard informed him.

"I'm sure you think so," Gravis snarled, blowing warm bourbon breath in Leonard's face. "You're arrogant, _Starfleet_." He punctuated the final word with a poke in the center of Leonard's chest.

"You know, normally a move like that might earn a guy a quick punch to the jaw," he said, "but it's clear you're in no state to fully understand what you're doing, so I'm just gonna –"

He was cut off by a loud bang from somewhere off in the distance. The atmosphere began to shift, some patrons craning their necks to see out windows, others actually getting up from their seats to go outside and investigate. Leonard tried to see out a window across the room and caught a glimpse of Uhura's back as she hurried out of the bar.

Gravis, however, had no interest in the noise and Leonard quickly realized that his attention hadn't been averted. For a moment Leonard wondered why he was so much more interesting to this guy than whatever mayhem was unfolding outside, but when he turned to Gravis again he got his answer. Gravis had opened his mouth to retort but then closed it, opened it, closed it. He frowned to himself as though he didn't understand why his voice wasn't working, and then he finally glanced toward the other patrons in the bar, though he didn't look as though he understood what any of them were doing.

"Sir?" Leonard said, his mind flipping through the million-and-one things that could possibly be happening here. "Sir, can you hear me?"

Gravis turned his glassy eyes back on Leonard, blinked dazedly as though he'd never seen him before, then spun around and spewed vomit all over the floor and bar stools behind him.

"Ah, jeez," Leonard sighed. The collective attention in the bar turned his way as he got up and went to the man's aid. This was the last thing he'd wanted, a patient to deal with and the eyes of everyone in the place on him, but he had a duty here. Laying his hands on the hunched-over man's back to steady him, Leonard said to the barman, "This man's gonna need medical attention."

The barman, who'd come around the bar to help Leonard – thinking that Leonard was trying to escort Gravis out – and scowl at the mess Gravis had made, shook his head. "He's merely drunk. We can send him home, let him sleep it off –"

"No, we cannot send him home and let him sleep it off," Leonard corrected him. "He won't sleep it off, he'll die, probably choke on his own vomit or something."

"I don't understand. He's intoxicated."

Gravis heaved again, thankfully managing to miss both Leonard and the barman.

"We have to get him outside _now_ ," the barman insisted.

"No, we need to lay him down. On his side."

"GET OFF ME!" Gravis suddenly yelled, yanking his arms away from them, but the quick movement caused him to overbalance and nearly sent him crashing to the floor. Luckily, Leonard was fast and got hold of his arm again. Gravis didn't need to add a head injury to his list of troubles. Gravis mumbled something, probably more protests, but he was incoherent now. His head lolled and his eyes drifted shut.

"Hey! No, you stay awake!" Leonard snapped, shaking Gravis hard enough to make his eyes pop open again. He no longer protested. He seemed too confused now to complain. Leonard pressed fingers to his throat, found his heart beat which was thumping at a pathetically slow pace. He put his ear to Gravis's mouth, hoping to God Gravis could keep the remaining contents of his stomach down for just a moment. His breathing was shallow, erratic.

"Somebody grab a bucket or something," Leonard called to no one in particular as he guided Gravis down to the floor. "If we're lucky he might still have the sense to aim for it if it's close enough. And for Christ sake, somebody call for emergency medical assistance. I don't have the tools to treat him myself."

"I still don't understand," complained the barman as he hurried away, back around the bar. He came back with a silver, metal bucket, which Leonard took from him and set down by Gravis's face. It was cold, had a lot of condensation on its outside and a small amount of water inside it, probably melted ice. Gravis was now lying on his side with Leonard crouched before him. The other patrons had gathered by now, most having lost interest in the explosion, and amongst their murmuring Leonard could hear someone asking for medical assistance. He glanced up and saw a Glabrosian man at the front of the crowd using some kind of non-Starfleet issue communicator.

"He's got alcohol poisoning," Leonard finally explained to the barman. "Too much, too fast. Is he a regular?"

"Yes, he's in here all the time," said the barman.

"But he's never consumed so much in such a short time, has he?"

"I suppose not. But today he was … agitated."

"Yeah, no kidding." Leonard looked down at Gravis and found his eyes closed. "Hey. Hey! Stay with me." He picked up the bucket and tossed the bit of ice water onto the man's face. He instantly woke up, spluttering and cursing, words Leonard had never even heard before. Whatever, he could insult Leonard's mother if he wanted, just so long as he stayed conscious. "So, what is it you hate so much about Starfleet, huh?" Leonard asked him. "Come on, let me have it."

Gravis glared weakly at him. "High and … mighty … think you … know everything," he panted. A sweat had broken out on his face. Every now and then someone from the assembled crowd would ask if they could do anything to help, but all that could be done now was keep the man talking to keep him awake and make sure he didn't breathe in his own vomit.

"Hatred like that doesn't just come outta nowhere," Leonard said. "What, did a Starfleet officer steal your girlfriend or something?"

The man grumbled. "You see? Cocky. Full of yourselves. I spit on you." He actually tried, but was too weak to do it.

"Yeah, you nearly spit on just about everybody in the place a moment ago, in case you hadn't noticed," Leonard informed him.

"Should have … aimed for you."

"But you didn't. Not even close. Which means you got at least a few decent bones in your body. Thanks, by the way, I appreciate not having to wear your lunch right now."

"Why would you … help me after … the things I said?"

"'Cause I'm not an asshole. Also, I'm a doctor. This is kind of my job."

"Doctor, eh? Tell me, Doctor … will I be all right?"

"You'll be fine, long as you stay awake."

"Not dying?"

"No, don't be so dramatic. Not dying, just kinda stupid is all."

To Leonard's surprise, Gravis smiled and snickered to himself.

"You're funny, Starfleet. Maybe I don't … hate you so much."

"Then maybe it was worth saving your miserable life after all," Leonard joked.

 

  
*** * ***   


"So, we bonded for a few more minutes, then a medical team showed up, got some fluids into him and hauled him off," Bones concluded. "End of story. No fight. No reason to call the cops on me if that's what you're getting at," he said to Uhura. "If you'd hung around, you'd have seen that."

"I went outside to see what the explosion was. I didn't want any part of your bar fight."

"There _was_ no fight!"

"Okay, okay, that's enough," Jim interrupted. "I think we can clear the both of you of any wrong doing. Doesn't sound like either of you were involved in … whatever the hell it is we're in here for. Uhura, you say you couldn't find Chekov when you went back outside?"

"Yeah, couldn't find him anywhere. God, I hope he's okay."

"I'm sure he's fine. Don't worry, we'll find him."

"How, when we're stuck in this sardine can?" asked Bones.

"You believe Mr. Chekov may have been involved in the explosion?" Spock asked Jim.

"I have no idea," Jim replied gravely. "Nyota said he'd been watching the hut, then the place explodes and he's nowhere to be found? That doesn't sound good."

The red door swished open again and Jim hurried to the force field's edge to see who was coming. He was relieved to see another of his crew, Sulu, though his mind still worried for his youngest crew member.

"You guys too, huh?" Sulu asked when his escorts had departed. "Any word on what we actually did?"

"No, nothing yet," said Jim. "Where's Chekov? Have you heard from him?"

"Yeah, I was with him when they came and got us."

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Jim heard a "thank God" from Uhura.

"So, he's here then?" asked Jim.

"Yeah, should be brought in any minute," said Sulu. "What did you guys think happened to him?"

"The explosion," said Uhura. "I couldn't find him after that."

"What'd you boys get up to?" asked Bones, more than a hint of suspicion in his voice.

"Nothing. I was teaching Pavel a few moves with the sword he bought."

"The what?" asked Jim.

"Why'd he buy a sword?" asked Uhura.

Sulu shrugged. "Souvenir, I guess." Though the way he avoided everyone's eyes as he said this made Jim wonder.

"The two of you were swinging a sword around outside?" he asked. "With all those people, including children, close by?"

"Of course not, we found an out-of-the-way area, barely anyone around. No one got hurt."

Jim nodded. Well, Chekov's business was his own. It didn't sound like anything they'd done could've caused their incarceration. But something somebody had done had put them all here.

Chekov was brought in shortly thereafter and everyone immediately began questioning him, all at once. Finally Jim had to stick his fingers in his mouth and whistle as loudly as he could, quieting the group. Chekov didn't seem to be paying any of them any mind, however; he was pacing back and forth before the force field, grumbling to himself, hands fidgeting.

"… at least I won't be _murdered_ in here," Jim heard him mutter.

"Chekov," Jim said. "Will you stop for a minute? Look at me."

"I didn't do it," Chekov immediately said as he stopped pacing and turned to face Jim.

"No one's accusing you of anything."

"Oh, we're not?" asked Bones.

Jim glanced over his shoulder to shoot Bones a look of frustration.

"I was minding my own business," Chekov said, speaking quickly and gesturing wildly, "when this woman, a Glabrosian woman, came up to me and she was very angry and she said that we would duel in one hour. I don't know where she came from or who she was or what her problem was –"

"What was she wearing?" Uhura asked.

Chekov stopped and blinked at her. "What?"

"Her clothes, Pavel."

Pavel thought for a moment, then replied, "A black bathing suit."

Uhura relaxed and nodded, while Jim filed the information away in his brain, already trying to form hypotheses.

"So, let me get this straight," Jim said. "After this person came up to you and challenged you to a duel, you went off and bought a sword and asked Sulu to teach you how to use it?"

Chekov nodded.

"Why? What were you thinking? Why didn't you just come find me or Spock, or hell, the authorities and tell them what was happening?"

"I thought telling on one of the Glabrosians might get me into deeper trouble with them. I don't think they like me very much. I don't even know what I might have done wrong in the first place."

Jim suspected that Chekov had wanted to prove he could handle things on his own. Of course, this only served to prove that sometimes he really couldn't. Jim also suspected that this duel challenge must be what Sulu had pointedly avoided talking about before Chekov had arrived, wanting to give Chekov the opportunity to tell the tale himself.

"And you thought a sword fight might fix all your problems?" Jim asked.

Chekov shrugged. "I thought it might gain their respect. Like Mr. Scott. They like him."

"Of course they do," Bones sighed to himself.

"They can be a rowdy bunch," said Sulu. "They like drinking, fighting and bawdy jokes. In other words –"

"Practically Scotty's extended family," Jim sighed. Then something dawned on him. "Hang on … where the hell _is_ Scotty?"

Everyone looked cluelessly around at each other.

"He went with the Glabrosians," said Chekov, getting everyone's attention back.

"How do you know that?" asked Jim.

"Because they are the ones who took him away when he was talking to me. They stopped to say hello and then they just whisked him off toward the little hut on the be – uh-oh."

Chekov seemed to reach the same conclusion everyone else did as the same time.

"Jesus H. Christ, man, Scotty was at that hut when the explosion happened?" asked Bones.

"He must have been," Chekov whimpered, his eyes big with worry. "That is where they took him. That is the last place I saw him before I went, um …"

"Sword shopping?" Jim offered. Chekov blushed and lowered his gaze. "Anybody spoken to Scotty since the explosion?"

Everyone shook their heads. Jim's stomach dropped even further than it already had.

"What was he doing at the hut, Chekov?" Jim asked, keeping his voice as calm and steady as possible.

"They were showing him, um, their hover crafts," Chekov explained, looking rather shifty, his hands fidgeting like crazy now. "And other things that I couldn't see clearly from where I was, but I am guessing it was technology of some kind. Gadgets. That is what it seemed like to me, but I can't say for sure."

Bones sighed again. "You all thinking what I'm thinking?"

They all certainly were thinking the same thing, that Scotty had been hurt or worse in that explosion, but no one said it. Jim glanced back at Bones and met his somber gaze. You could hear a pin drop in the cell. Everyone was as still as death until Chekov finally went to an unoccupied bench and sat down. He was ghost-pale and his hands just wouldn't stop. Jim went to him, sat at his side, reached out and gently took hold of both his hands.

"I should have stopped him," Chekov said, his eyes staring blankly at the floor.

"Don't you dare," Jim warned. Chekov looked over at him. "There's no way you could've known what would happen. Don't you dare take all this on your shoulders."

Chekov allowed himself a moment more to look like he might cry, then he sobered, swallowed hard, gulping down the guilt Jim knew he still felt. He squared his shoulders and nodded at Jim, putting on his brave face. Somehow his brave face still looked a lot like his lost puppy face, but he was trying. Jim patted his back.

"'Atta boy," he said. He swallowed down his own feelings and stood to face the others. "We don't know for sure what's happened. He might simply be a little banged up. He might be fine. We don't know."

"I didn't see any …" Uhura began, but she trailed off to compose herself. She touched her fingertips to her lips for a moment, then tried to speak again. "I didn't see any … bodies. Around the hut. It didn't look like anyone was injured."

"Good. That's good news. Thank you, Lieutenant."

"If the sound of the blast was any indication of its strength," said Spock, "there might not be any physical evidence of humanoid remains visible from where you were standing."

Jim gave Spock his best what-is-wrong-with-you face while the sharp slap of Bones's forehead landing squarely in his own palm filled the cell for a split second.

Spock looked innocently around at everyone. "I was merely stating a fact."

Bones glared at him. "How can you be this dense?"

"Bones," Jim said warningly.

"No, Jim, he's spent enough time around humans by now to know when it might be a good idea to keep his _facts_ to himself. He might not want to deal with his own emotions, but the rest of us don't have that luxury."

"I simply do not see the benefit of ignoring the obvious," Spock said. "It is possible that Mr. Scott has been severely injured. Pretending the possibility does not exist does not lower the odds of it being true."

"You see?" Bones said to Jim, gesturing at Spock. "He doesn't get it. He never will."

"Not helping, either of you," Jim said. "Bones, leave Spock alone. Spock, Scotty's fine. All right, everyone? He's fine. We have absolutely no reason to believe otherwise." He looked pointedly at Spock as he said this, trying desperately to keep his own concern and uncertainty from showing. He couldn't let his crew see it.

"He was so happy," Chekov said quietly. Everyone turned to him. "When we were at the planetarium today. He …" Chekov smiled sadly to himself. "He hugged me."

Uhura moved to Chekov's side, sat with him and slipped an arm around his shoulders.

Jim was annoyed again, some of Bones's frustration apparently having rubbed off on him.

"Why is everyone acting like he's dead?" he asked. The silence was heavy in the room as all eyes turned to him. "It's sweet that you miss him so much already, but I can't help but be a little indignant on his behalf. It feels to me like everyone's already given up."

"No one's given up," Uhura said quietly. "We're just worried."

"Looks like grieving to me."

"Jim," Spock tried to interrupt, but Jim was having none of it.

"You're all jumping the gun here. You all seem far too eager to hop onto the dead-Scotty bandwagon with not one shred of proof, and that feels an awful lot like throwing in the towel to me. That's not the crew I know. That's not the crew I rely on everyday. And that's not Scotty. You think he'd be sitting here mourning your loss if the tables were turned and he had barely any evidence to suggest you were dead? No, he'd be working his ass of to try to figure out what the hell happened to you."

He'd raised his voice. He could still hear his own final words echoing loudly in his ears and they sounded harsh and insensitive, but dammit, they were the truth. He was tense, his heart was beating too fast, his jaw was clenched, he felt a little shaky. He clenched and relaxed his fists and turned away from the group, because suddenly he couldn't face them, those sad, hurt eyes.

Spock approached to stand at his side. "Jim," he said, quietly so only Jim would hear, "you are correct. We have no evidence of Mr. Scott's demise and therefore should not be mourning him as of yet. Initiating the mourning process was not my intent."

"Then what was your intent?" Jim demanded.

"As I said, I simply do not believe that ignoring a possibility is productive in any way."

"Yeah, but Spock, shoving something like that in people's faces, when they might not want to deal with it, isn't productive, either."

Spock considered with a tilt of his head. "I will concede the point. However, I do not believe that my words are what has caused the others to lose hope. As I have witnessed on so many occasions, emotions are not rational. They are not logical. But they are extremely powerful. Even the fear of potentially losing one's friend can be a formidable emotion. So much so, that it might cause different individuals to act out in a multitude of ways. One might give in to the grieving process quickly, feeling that staving it off will only cause more pain in the future. Another might choose denial, ignoring all but a favorable outcome in order to spare himself having to face his own emotions."

Jim glanced at him. Spock merely gazed back serenely in that way that Jim was never quite sure was neutral or sympathetic.

"So, you're saying," said Jim, "that my outburst just now and everyone else's seeming resignation are one and the same, a reaction to the prospect of losing a friend, and therefore I shouldn't be quite so tough on them, because while we express them differently, our feelings are, in fact, the same and our reactions are equally illogical. Right?"

Spock gave him a nod. "Also, I believe your outburst is indicative of at least a small amount of guilt."

 

  
**Jim**   


Jim woke to sound of birds. Actual birds.

He opened his eyes and squinted. He'd forgotten what it was like to wake up in a room that wasn't pitch black, to have actual sunlight streaming in through a window. He'd neglected to shut his blinds the night before. It hadn't even occurred to him because he'd _forgotten about sunlight_.

On a starship, you went to sleep in darkness and woke in darkness. You could have the computer gradually raise the light level in the room to approximate the rising sun, but it wasn't the same and only served to remind Jim that it was not, in fact, actual sunlight. So he'd stopped using it. The only sounds were the steady, rather comforting hum of the ship and the occasional chirp of the computer. These were sounds Jim liked and missed, but here there were birds chirping, not unlike the computer's chirp, only more erratic. Here, there was the distant sound of actual ocean, which wasn't unlike the ship's hum, actually. For the first time in a long time, Jim woke up naturally, not to sound of an alarm clock. And when he remembered that he didn't technically have to get out of bed, he smiled to himself.

He could have breakfast sent up to him. He could do that on the _Enterprise_ as well, but it would usually come with a yeoman with a PADD who needed his approval for one thing or another. No one here was going to thrust a bunch of paperwork at him or make demands on his time. He was free. At least for the next few days.

He loved his job, of course. He wouldn't give it up for the world, but even Jim Kirk could admit when he needed a break.

He had a leisurely breakfast in his room, then showered, dressed and headed downstairs to the lobby of the resort where he and the others were staying. He wondered if they'd all gotten there by now, but he didn't stop to ask reception any questions. He was sure they'd all made it. They didn't need him checking up on them.

On his way through the well-lit lobby, passed clusters of bright, green plants and the unnaturally blue, fish-filled pond at the lobby's center, he smiled and nodded at the friendly attendant he'd met when he'd arrived. She was approaching him with a big grin. He scrolled through the list of names he'd acquired since he'd checked in last night, names of various employees he'd interacted with. This woman was short, plump, rosy-faced and cheery. Matra. Her name was Matra.

"Good morning, Mr. Kirk," she chirped. She had small eyes that always squinted due to her permanent smile. Dressed in her crimson uniform, she gave Jim a little bow as he approached her. "I do hope you slept well."

"Very well, thank you," he said as he stopped to chat with her.

"Have your friends arrived yet?"

"I'm sure they have."

Her smile faltered. "You haven't heard from them? I can check with the front desk for you."

He was just able to stop her before she darted off toward the desk. "It's okay. I don't know because we're not really here together. I mean we are, but we don't have to spend every waking moment in each other's company. Let them relax, settle in, do whatever it is they do. If we run into each other, we run into each other. No big deal."

She didn't look convinced. "But you're all by yourself."

"Which is perfectly fine. Looking forward to it, actually. I've got people talking at me all day long. A little solitude is more than welcome."

She sighed. "An attractive young man like you should have someone special to spend his time with."

He smiled. "You offering?"

Her cheeks turned even rosier. "Oh, Mr. Kirk."

"Seriously, when do you get off work?"

She giggled and patted his arm. "You flatter me." She leaned in and signaled for him to come closer. He bowed his head so she could whisper to him. "Did you enjoy the extra pot of uttaberry jam this morning?"

"That was you?"

She grinned. "They never give you enough. You always end up with just a bit too little to finish your toast. I keep mentioning it and they keep ignoring me."

"They oughta take your suggestions more seriously then, 'cause I did enjoy it, thank you."

Her eyes nearly closed completely as she grinned with delight. "My pleasure. As always, if you need anything at all, Mr. Kirk, be sure to ask for me. You have a lovely day."

She left him then, and Jim was left to marvel, and not for the first time, at how far a little innocent flirting could go.

As he headed for the row of glass entrance/exit doors, he saw Spock's familiar shape standing just outside. Far from being annoyed at running into someone he knew so soon, Jim smiled. He stepped out into the sunshine, next to Spock who was reading a glossy brochure, and gave him a pat on the back.

"What you got there?" Jim asked.

"Something to assist in planning the day's activities."

"Anything good?"

"The receptionist suggested beginning here." Spock pointed a long, slender finger at a small picture of what looked like a museum's interior, except the giant skeleton on display looked nothing like an earth dinosaur. Next to it was a description of the museum and its various exhibits.

"Looks like a family thing," Jim said, frowning at it. "Crowded."

Spock looked at him. "If it is crowds you wish to avoid, then I doubt there is anything in this brochure you will find satisfactory."

"I think you might be right. You hellbent on following the tourist route today? 'Cause I'm not and I wouldn't mind having you along."

"I was under the impression that you would prefer solitude during your time off."

"I did. I do, but you're different."

Spock canted his head. "Different how?"

"I don't know, you're … peaceful."

Spock said nothing, merely arched an eyebrow as he quietly considered Jim's words.

"Let's just go, explore, find our own fun," Jim suggested. "There's got to be interesting things to do that aren't the usual tourist hot spots."

Bones stepped out just then, a few doors down from them. He didn't notice Jim and Spock right away, instead stopping to breathe in the fresh air and shove his sunglasses onto his nose. When he finally did see them, he gave them a wave.

"What are you up to today?" Jim asked.

Bones wandered toward them. "Art show down by the pier."

Jim smiled. "I didn't know you liked art."

"I like a lotta things, Jim. I can appreciate fine art."

"Huh. Never pegged you for an art buff."

Spock flipped his brochure over and read aloud, _"The city of Vacari is pleased to present the 23rd annual Vacari Outdoor Art Exhibit, a showcase featuring contemporary fine arts and crafts by established artists and undiscovered talent alike."_

Jim frowned at the brochure and shook his head. "That doesn't sound like you," he said to Bones.

"Typical, you thinking you know every damn thing about me," Bones said.

"It also says there will be free food and beverage served," Spock added.

"Ah," said Jim with a knowing smile as the pieces slid into place. "There it is."

"I can also appreciate free food," Bones admitted. "But who knows? Might pick up something nice to spruce up the old office."

"Well, you have fun with that."

"I intend to. Long as nobody comes at me whining about aches or pains or sniffles, I'm sure I'll be fine. I am _not_ the doctor today."

"I hear you," Jim said. "Last thing I want to do today is be captain of anything. Still haven't decided what I'm doing, though."

"I could use some company," suggested a voice from behind. The three men glanced back to find Sulu just exiting the resort and approaching them. "I'm headed to the botanical gardens, hoping to pick up a few new plant species for the _Enterprise_ greenhouse."

Jim sighed. "Sulu, you know I love you, but the words 'botanical' and 'garden' make me want to curl up and take a nap."

Sulu shrugged. "Your loss. Maybe we can all meet up later or something."

"I'm game," said Uhura as she and Gaila exited the building and came to join the group. "We've got plans for the first half of the day, but we're free after that. What are you all up to?"

"Haven't decided yet," Jim said almost defensively, as though the mere suggestion of a meet-up later on meant that he was already committed to it.

"You could come with," Gaila suggested brightly. She frowned as she examined Jim's brow. "You're definitely due for a wax. I'm sure the spa can fit you in."

"Spa?" Jim said with a grimace. "No, Gaila, thanks, but –"

"It's all her idea," Uhura said with a slight eye roll. "The spa thing. She insists on trying to pretty me up so she can find me some, shall we say 'company' while we're here."

"Dry spells can become chronic if left unchecked, you know," Gaila said sagely.

"It's not a dry spell. There just aren't any men who are my type, that's all."

"Oh, we shall soon see."

Their conversation was cut off by an argumentative voice trying to be heard over a boisterous laugh. Jim turned to find a mirthful Scotty stepping outside with Chekov in tow.

"Why on earth would you want to go and see that?" Scotty asked.

"Because it is fascinating," Chekov insisted.

"Says you."

"Oh, and I suppose a filthy junkyard is more interesting than the Entomology Exhibit."

"They're just bugs, Chekov. Do you have any idea what sorts of interesting bits and bobs you might find in an alien junkyard? Come on!"

"The size of your head, Scotty. That is how big the insects get here."

Scotty stopped and turned to him with a look of disgust. "You know, I'm not sure you understand the meaning of the word 'incentive'."

"Bah!" Chekov exclaimed, dismissing Scotty with a wave of his hand and then crossing his arms. "I was never going to convince you anyway. It is hopeless."

"Oh, it wasn't hopeless, lad. You were doing just fine 'til you opened your mouth and all those words started tumbling out."

Chekov shot him a glare which Scotty extinguished with a grin and a friendly pat on the back. Chekov's smile was reluctant at first, but then he gave in to it fully.

Uhura turned to Jim, hands on her hips. "There you go. Junkyard or bugs. Take your pick."

"No plans yet, Cap'n?" Scotty asked as he and Chekov integrated themselves into the group.

"Not yet, no," Jim muttered, feeling more and more fenced in by the second.

"Well, you're more than welcome to join us."

"At the junkyard," Chekov said flatly.

"Oh, we'll compromise," Scotty said to Chekov. "There's got to be a science center or something around here, yeah?" Scotty looked at Jim again. "What do you say, Cap'n?"

"Guys, I appreciate all your suggestions," Jim began, "but I'm not looking for help. And I'm not looking for company, either."

"You don't want our company?" Gaila asked, crossing her arms.

Jim instantly tensed, that tone in her voice sounding so familiar and so innocently challenging, it made his balls want to hide up inside his abdomen. "I just need some time alone, away from people, away from crowds, away from noise. No offense, but you're all a bit … well …"

"A bit what?" asked Bones.

"You know, you're … there are a lot of you and you're … enthusiastic. I was hoping for some peace and quiet today."

"So, you don't want to meet up later?" asked Uhura.

"Maybe tomorrow, after I decompress."

She shrugged. "Okay. Gaila, let's go." At that, the women departed with a few somber goodbyes to the others.

"Awkward," Sulu said to himself. "I'm gonna head off too, guys. I'll see you. Or not," he added with a glance at Jim. He waved goodbye and then wandered off.

Jim watched them all go, feeling a bit helpless. He turned to the ones remaining and said, "I just want a little space. That's not so terrible, is it?"

"Not at all," Scotty assured him. "Perfectly understandable, sir. We'll get out've your hair. Come on, laddie. Let's leave the captain be."

Somehow, that didn't make Jim feel any less like a jerk, but it was pointless to harp on it. He let Scotty and Chekov go, then turned his weary eyes on Bones.

"Was I an asshole just now?" he asked.

"A little," Bones casually replied. "But I'm sure they understand. It's never fun, being rejected like that, but they know you've got a stressful job. It's not so much to ask to be left alone for five damn minutes."

Jim groaned and wiped sweat from his brow, momentarily feeling between his eyebrows as he remembered Gaila's comment.

"Do you feel rejected?" he asked.

"Nah. I'm just glad that everybody seems to be taking care of themselves for once." Bones then turned his eyes toward Spock, sized him up from behind his shades. "What're you doing today?"

"Jim and I are still deciding," Spock replied.

Bones's eyebrows shot up. "Wait, you're going with him?" Bones looked to Jim. "He's going with you?"

"Sure," Jim said, suddenly feeling as though dark clouds should be gathering above his head. "What? What's wrong?"

Bones frowned. "Okay, _now_ I feel rejected."

"Ah, Bones, come on –"

"It's fine. I got art to go pretend I understand. I'll see you gentlemen later." At that, he began to walk away. Then he turned back, pointed at Spock and said to him, "You keep him outta the red light district," before turning away again and heading off.

"That's hilarious," Jim called after him dryly. With a heavy sigh, he turned to Spock. "I feel awful."

"You did just reject the company of every one of your friends."

"Spock, that wasn't the response I was hoping for."

Spock canted his head. "What response were you hoping for? Perhaps I can approximate it for you."

Jim had to smile. If anything, Spock's near complete lack of social grace was amusing him out of the mood that had descended upon him.

Just then, a door opened and Matra stepped out to stand just next to it while a pair of new guests stepped inside. She was pleasant and smiley even as she gave a sharp whistle to summon three eager young men who quickly descended to take the couple's bags for them. She was on her way back inside when she noticed Jim and Spock.

"You see?" she said with a shake of a plump finger and a knowing glint in her eye. "I knew you wouldn't be alone for long, charming thing like you."

"Yeah, this is Spock," Jim said, gesturing at his first officer. Spock gave her a polite nod.

She tittered like a school girl and then whispered to Jim as though Spock couldn't hear her, "He's quite handsome. Good for you!"

"What?" Jim asked dumbly.

"I believe she is under the impression that you and I are romantically involved," Spock explained. Jim realized this a second before Spock finished his sentence.

"Oh," he laughed. "No, Matra, we're not –"

"Matra," Spock interrupted, "can you explain why you have gotten this impression?"

"Oh, uh …" She thought for a moment, then replied, "There's a certain familiarity between you. You can see it from a light year away. Also, you seem quite well matched – height, build. Not that physical appearance is any indication of compatibility, but you do look nice together."

"Actually, there is some scientific merit to the notion that one chooses partners based on a certain level of physical similarity to one's self," Spock explained. Jim was certain he was about to go on to say that it didn't matter because they weren't a couple, but instead Spock urged her to continue.

"Also," she said, "if you don't mind my saying, Mr. Kirk, the way you've been coming on so strongly with the female staff, well, it did make me wonder." She looked from Jim to Spock and then back again. "And now I know."

"Wait, hang on, made you _wonder_?" Jim asked, but Spock spoke again before Matra could reply.

"This has been highly informative," Spock said. "Thank you, Matra"

"Oh, you're very welcome." Then in a whisper, she added, "Let me know if you boys require a larger bed." And with a wink, she went on her way.

Jim frowned after her, watching her, the bag boys and the new guests walk away through the glass doors. "That was weird," he muttered. He then turned to Spock. "Why didn't you correct her?"

"Because she would not have believed me," Spock replied simply. "There is something about you being involved in a romantic coupling with me that she finds appealing."

"But why?"

Spock shook his head. "I do not know." He began browsing his brochure again and added, "But I will admit, a larger bed would not go amiss."

Jim smirked. "You hitting on me?"

Spock looked at him innocently, clearing missing the joke. "No, Jim."

"So, wait, I've been coming on too strong with the female staff, so now they think I'm gay?"

"Overcompensation is a typical misdirection tactic."

"If I was gay, why would I want them to think I wasn't? Why would I care?"

"Human history is rife with discrimination."

"Yeah, but not anymore. And what does she care about that anyway? She's not human." Jim rubbed his forehead. "I'm on vacation, I shouldn't be thinking this hard."

"Perhaps it would be prudent to control your flirtatious nature for the duration of your stay. Unless of course you are not concerned with whom the staff believes you are involved."

Jim shrugged. "Do you care?"

"No. And as Matra pointed out, this may be an opportunity to procure for ourselves a few perks, if you will."

"Spock, I like the way you think."

"One thing I do not understand …"

"What's that?"

"'A certain level of familiarity'?" Spock asked, quoting Matra.

"Yeah, I didn't get that, either." Jim thought for a moment, remembering his interaction with Spock before Matra had appeared again, but still came up empty. He looked to Spock to see if he'd come up with anything, but noticed something else instead. "You got a little something …" Jim said, reaching up for the tiny bit of thread from Spock's shirt that had tucked itself in his hair, just at his ear. Jim plucked it loose and set it free on the wind.

"Thank you, Jim.

"No problem. Come on, let's go find something to do."

 

  
*** * ***   


"Okay, yes, maybe I feel just the tiniest bit responsible for shooing everybody away," Jim admitted quietly. "If we'd all done something together, maybe none of this ever would've happened, and Scotty certainly wouldn't be … whatever. But I can't be responsible for everybody all the time. I'm on _shore leave_ , for crying out loud! _Leeeeeaaave_. It's right there in the name! So, I left everyone to their own devices. How was I supposed to know they'd run off and get in fights and blow things up? I expect better of my crew, call me crazy."

Spock merely watched Jim serenely.

"Yes, I feel guilty is what I'm getting at," Jim concluded.

"There's no need to feel guilty, Captain," said Sulu, apparently having overheard. He stepped closer to the pair. "Scotty's an independent guy anyway. He would've gone off and done his own thing no matter what."

"I thought he was supposed to be hanging out with Chekov."

The three glanced over to where Chekov and Uhura still sat comforting each other.

"How'd Chekov end up with you?" Jim asked Sulu.

Sulu frowned, remembering. "He was alone when I found him. I'd just gotten back from the botanical gardens, had gone back up to my room to stash my new plants, and when I came back outside …"

 

  
**Hikaru**   


Pavel was hard to miss, walking down the boardwalk, carrying the sword that was nearly as big as he was. It was unwieldy in his hands and people were veering away from him as they passed. Parents tried to shield their children. It seemed a pretty sweet piece of Seronan weaponry, if a little basic. Well, Hikaru supposed he should be grateful that Pavel had settled for basic, as he seemed barely able to lift the thing.

With a sigh, Hikaru stepped away from the resort's entrance and headed for Pavel. He could recognize his cue to intervene when he saw it. He vaguely wondered where Scotty was, knowing that he and Pavel had begun their day together.

"Hey!" Hikaru called as he neared the end of the boardwalk. Pavel looked up and smiled at him. Hikaru pointed at the sword.

"I need it for something," Pavel said as they stopped before one another. "I know it isn't much, but they were all out of the big ones."

Hikaru's eyebrows shot up. "You've gotta be kidding me."

"I know!" Pavel exclaimed, apparently not quite getting what Hikaru couldn't believe. "I was very disappointed. But I think this will do. Actually, I am glad I ran into you, because I need to ask you a favor."

"You want me to teach you to use that thing, don't you?"

Pavel's eyes became pleading. "Would you? I am a fast learner, I only need a few moves."

"Pavel …" Hikaru paused and winced as a little girl narrowly avoided the tip of the blade. "Jesus … let's go sit somewhere, okay? And here, just let me …" He reached down and carefully took the sword away from Pavel and gave him a smile he hoped wasn't betraying his nerves. "Why don't I just hold onto this for a while?"

They made their way to the grassy strip opposite the beach and settled under a tree. Hikaru laid the sword on the grass before them.

"You wanna explain yourself a little more?" he asked.

"I must learn to defend myself."

"You know how to fight, don't you? Also, what? Why?"

"I never learned to fight with a weapon, and she will surely have her own."

"She who?"

"The very large, angry woman who challenged me to a duel."

"Wait, wait, slow down. You've been challenged to a duel? An actual duel?"

"Yes, earlier today. Over there on the bridge." Pavel pointed at the small, white bridge in the distance. "I was minding my own business when she came up to me, this Glabrosian woman."

"So, she was probably bigger than you."

"Ai, she was a giant. At first I thought she might run right over me, the way she charged at me."

"Well, what'd you do to her?"

"Nothing!" Pavel snapped, indignant. "I was just standing there, looking out at the water, thinking. I didn't even see her until she was _right there_ , threatening me."

"Well, there must be some reason she'd get so upset. You're sure you didn't say anything? Mutter something under your breath, maybe? You do that a lot, you know."

"I am positive. I was speaking to Nyota maybe a minute before the woman approached me. Maybe she heard something she didn't like, although I don't see what it could have been."

"Huh. Well, what _exactly_ were you doing before she came up to you? What were you thinking?"

Pavel frowned at him. "What was I thinking?"

"Yeah. There are lots of different races of people here. I wouldn't be surprised if one or two of them have telepathic powers. Maybe a friend of this woman tipped her off to something unpleasant in your head."

"That is against the law. You cannot read someone's thoughts without their permission."

"I know," Hikaru sighed. "If that's what happened, we'll have to alert the authorities, but for now, let's just figure out what happened. Were you thinking anything that might get you into trouble?"

Pavel seemed to be thinking, but then Hikaru realized he was hesitating. His hands were fidgeting and when he met Hikaru's eyes, he looked terribly sheepish.

"Pavel, what's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong. I was … I was working up the courage to tell someone something."

"Such as?"

Pavel gulped. "Such as how I feel about them."

Hikaru tried desperately not to smile, knowing it would only piss Pavel off. "I see. Anyone I know?"

"Yes," Pavel said tersely. "But it is not you."

"I know, I didn't think it was. And that's all you were thinking? Nothing else at all?"

"Nothing."

"Well, Pavel, I can't teach you how to fight with this thing. First of all, it's way too big for you, you'll hurt somebody, probably yourself. Second, I'm pretty sure even the mere threat of a duel is against the law around here, they're really strict about keeping up the appearance of peace –"

 

* * *

Sulu stopped talking and looked at the Jim with alarm. Jim knew they were thinking the same thing, and when he looked over at Spock, Spock confirmed what he was thinking.

"If Mr. Chekov was involved in an altercation," said Spock, "or even the mere suggestion of one, we would all be held accountable as per the laws of this planet, because he is, according to Seronan law, still underage."

"That's gotta be it," Jim muttered, then more loudly he said to everyone, "Guys, listen up. We've got a theory."

When Jim finished explaining, everyone remained quiet, thinking over the scenario. Chekov looked the most trouble of anyone and Jim approached him.

"Hey, Chekov," he said, stepping toward where Chekov still sat. He lowered himself to a crouch and said softly, "Hey, how are you holding up, buddy?"

"I am fine, sir. I am … embarrassed."

"Hey, look at me. This isn't your fault. Not even a little bit."

"I shouldn't have bought the sword. I know it isn't the reason we are here, but still."

"We'll deal with that later. How come you weren't with Scotty? Not that I think it would've made any difference. No one's to blame for his being missing now, but I thought you two were spending the day together."

"We did spend a few hours together. But then while we were talking on the bridge, his friends came by, a group of Glabrosians he had met earlier in the day. He wanted to go with them, but I didn't. So, I let him go."

A look crossed Chekov's face then, a defeated sort of look.

"You couldn't have stopped him, Chekov," Jim said soothingly. "What would've happened if you'd gone with him? You'd be missing now too."

Chekov nodded sadly. "Yes, sir. I just can't believe that he … might be –"

"Don't say it. Don't even think it. He's _fine_." At that, Jim patted Chekov's knee and straightened up again, adding, "We'll find him. I don't leave people behind."

Another half hour went by with no word from the outside. Jim paced by the force field and listened to the murmurs of his crew as they reminisced about their missing friend. He wished they wouldn't. It made him feel like Scotty really was dead, and he _wasn't_. Still, Jim realized that telling them to stop would be quite the dick move indeed. This was something they needed to do. Even Spock could see that.

"How many times has that guy saved all our asses?" Bones said.

"Too many to count," said Uhura. "What I love about him is that delicate dance he does with the captain. Captain asks for what he wants, and Commander Scott, right on the spot, figures out not only what can actually be done, but what he needs to say to make the captain happy."

"And inevitably the two things are completely different," laughed Sulu. "But he always knows exactly what the captain needs to hear to … uh …"

Jim had to smirk as he peered out at the red door. "To shut me up?" he offered without malice.

"Heh," Sulu chuckled nervously. "Something like that."

"That's what I loved … that's what I _love_ about him," Uhura said. "He knows us. Sometimes you think he's not paying attention, but he is."

"He always knows what to say," said Chekov. "This afternoon, before we parted ways, we were leaving the planetarium when we ran into the Glabrosians. Literally, we bumped into them, and they are so tall and muscular and serious looking, I thought for sure we were in for a fight. But then Scotty … um, Commander Scott, he … he flipped them off."

"What?" asked several people at once. Jim stopped pacing and looked back at his crew. They were huddled together on the benches and everyone was looking at Chekov in amused disbelief.

"He gave them the finger?" asked Bones.

Chekov nodded earnestly. "Yes. I thought he was crazy and I was prepared to begin defending myself, but then he smiles and he says to them, he says, 'What? This means 'excuse me' in your language, doesn't it?' And after a brief pause, during which I think I nearly wet my pants, they started to laugh."

Spock and Bones looked quietly impressed. Uhura and Sulu were just plain amused, Uhura even starting to laugh out loud, her raspy laugh filling the previously drab, depressing cell. Chekov grinned to himself.

"After that, they started talking about engines." He shook his head. "He makes friends wherever he goes."

"That cocky son of a bitch," Bones said with clear admiration.

"He would know what to say right now," Chekov went on, "to make us all feel better. I know he would. He would come in here, look at all of us sitting here being sad and he would scoff and he would say –"

"Bloody hell, I've seen morgues cheerier than this place," said a voice from the corridor. A familiar voice. A familiar Scottish voice. Jim wheeled around and came face to face with Scotty who was being escorted toward the cell just as the rest of them had been. Scotty grinned and waved. "Hullo, Cap'n!"

They didn't even wait until the escorts had reestablished the force field before they all descended on Scotty, which Jim was sure could've gotten them all zapped with a phaser gun, but he simply didn't feel like containing himself. They all hugged Scotty until Scotty finally had to protest.

"Air! Back, you mad badgers, I need air!" When everyone loosened their grips on him, he straightened his clothes and looked around at Jim. "Thought we weren't bothering to get together today," he said with a wink.

"You got any idea how worried we've all been?" Bones demanded. "We're putting a goddamn leash on you from now on."

Scotty looked mildly intrigued. "Kinky, that. But why were you worried?"

"We thought you were dead!" Uhura blurted out, looking shaken, almost as if she was seeing a ghost.

"The explosion at the hut, Scotty," Jim said. "What the hell happened out there?"

"Oh," Scotty said as his face turned pink. "Heard that, did you?"

"Yes!" everyone replied in unison.

Scotty cleared his throat. "Yeah, erm … that was me. I did that."

 

  
**Scotty**   


"All right, so we've seen your bugs," Scotty said as he and Pavel strolled down the boardwalk toward the bridge.

"And it was fascinating, admit it," Pavel said.

"It was very entertaining. Haven't lived 'til you've seen a beetle the size of a hubcap eat a beetle the size of a dinner plate. Speaking of which, I'm never eating again. Thanks for that."

The two of them stopped on the bridge and smiled at each other as they moved off to the side, out of the way of the crowd.

"So, what's next then?" Scotty asked.

"I don't know. I _was_ going to suggest we go and get lunch."

Scotty chuckled. "Oh, we can still do that. I was exaggerating. But afterward, it's the junkyard."

Pavel sighed and rolled his eyes. "Yes, fine, the junkyard. Only for you would I do this."

He bitched and moaned a lot, Pavel, but he was a good lad. Cheerful for such a complainer. And smart. And kind of sweet. Scotty suspected Pavel looked up to him a little. Scotty hardly considered himself a proper role model for a teenager, but he did his best. Besides, he liked spending time with Pavel.

Pavel smiled rather shyly at him, then looked away, out at the beach. "Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Sure."

"While you are here, are you going to … partake in any, um … adult activities?"

Scotty grinned. "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious," Pavel replied innocently.

Scotty shrugged. "I thought about it, but nah. That's not why I'm here."

"What if you met someone nice?"

"Well, that'd be a different story, wouldn't it? I thought you were referring to the, er, special area they've got here for that sort of thing."

Pavel blushed. "Oh. No. I mean, I wasn't _not_ referring to it, either. I just meant in general." He glanced at Scotty. "Have you ever been with a … professional?"

"Heh, not on purpose. Sometimes you don't realize what you've done until you get the bill." Pavel snickered. Scotty cocked his head at him. "Are you looking to have an experience while you're here, laddie?"

"Me?" Pavel asked, looking genuinely shocked. "No, I'm not asking for myself. I was wondering about you, about your plans."

"Oh. Well, you can relax. I'm not about to ditch you for a prostitute if that's what you're worried about."

Raucous laughter sounded from up the boardwalk. Scotty looked past Pavel's head and saw a familiar group of Glabrosians coming their way. They spotted him as soon as he spotted them. They pointed at him and waved and yelled "Starfleet", and when they reached him, Scotty was patted on the back so hard he nearly fell forward.

"Good to see you again, Starfleet," said one of the males in the lowest, smoothest voice Scotty had ever heard. He had introduced himself as Vir when they'd met before. He was tan and muscular with dark hair and pitch-black eyes. They all were, but Vir was the tallest at about eight feet. He was the most alpha of the alpha males. Then again, Scotty imagined there was no such thing as a beta male in Glabrosian culture. Pavel huddled close to Scotty, no doubt fearing that he'd get lost amidst the tall bodies and possibly trampled to death.

"Fancy meeting you here," Scotty said cheerily. "Was just about to grab a bite with my friend. Care to join us?"

"Actually, we thought you could join us."

Vir made a gesture at the others, a quick hand motion that looked like it involved several complicated finger movements. Each finger seemed to move independently of all the others and it was so fast, Scotty was sure he couldn't have properly seen each and every individual move.

One of the women promptly pulled something out of the bag she had slung across her chest. When Scotty saw what looked like some generic cylindrical engine part, about the size of a travel mug, his mouth dropped open.

"What?" asked Pavel. "What is it?"

"It's a bleedin' Carune Capacitor," Scotty said. He nearly reached out to touch the thing, but he managed to catch himself, remembering how much bigger than himself his new friends were.

"We thought you might be interested," said Vir. "Come, we will be running some tests down on the beach. We have hover crafts parked there that we can use."

Scotty turned to Pavel, practically salivating. "We have to go."

"With them?" asked Pavel. "To play with that thing?"

"Yes! How can you even question it?"

Pavel grabbed Scotty's arm and dragged him a little ways from the group to speak to him in hushed, urgent tones. "Scotty, I have heard the theories, and if this really is what they say it is, which I doubt, then it is highly experimental, incredibly dangerous and completely illegal."

"I know, I know, and I _know_ ," Scotty hissed. "But when are we gonna get another chance like this? What if it is real? Do you understand what we could be witnessing today if we go with them?"

"Yes, instantaneous travel to anywhere, from anywhere, faster than transporting, a system that would function on any vehicle, be it a starship or a motorbike. Yes, I know, and I am telling you that what they are holding is either a dangerous fake or, if it is real – which it can't be, by the way – is something that will get you thrown in prison if you are caught with it. Where did it come from? How did they even get their hands on it?"

"We are waiting, Starfleet," called Vir. Scotty looked over at the group, gave them a little smile and wave, then turned back to Pavel.

"I know the risks," he said. "I do, but this could change the face of space travel. If this thing is real, it will make everything we do now obsolete. I have to be there to see that. This lot is as far along technology-wise as we are, it's not out of the question that they'd managed to come up with something like this."

"True. Except that it is still theoretical. It is still science fiction, Scotty, there is no way it is real."

Scotty sighed. "So, you're not coming then?"

Pavel crossed his arms, hesitated, but Scotty finally realized his mistake.

"No, of course you're not," he said. "I wouldn't allow it if you wanted to."

Pavel frowned at him. "Why not?"

"Because you're too young. You're right, this thing is either highly dangerous or just plain illegal, and asking you to tag along to tinker with it is bloody irresponsible on my part. Daft bugger, I am," Scotty muttered, shaking his head at himself.

"I could go if I wanted to," Pavel said, almost glaring now. "I am old enough to make my own decisions, I don't need your permission."

Scotty was tempted to pull rank, but he refrained, knowing that would only get him deeper in the dog house. Instead he said, "I'm not going."

"Why, because of me?"

"Because it's bloody dangerous. And stupid. You're right, there's no way it's real."

Pavel didn't look appeased. He crossed his arms and looked away. "Go. I know you want to."

"Pavel –"

"Go, Scotty. You are staying because you think you need to babysit me."

"That's not true."

"Yes, it is. I would prefer you went with them rather than stay because you feel responsible for me. Go. We will meet up later." Pavel offered him a smile, but it was unconvincing. "Go, please. I will feel guilty if you miss your chance."

"I'm not leaving you," Scotty insisted.

"Then I will walk away," Pavel said with a shrug. He made one final attempt at reassuring Scotty with a smile. It didn't work. "I will see you later. For dinner maybe." At that, he turned and started walking, and Scotty almost went after him, but then the biggest hand in the universe took hold of his arm and tugged him in the opposite direction. And when a man that big pulls you along, you go.

 

* * *

"I should've gone with you," Scotty said sadly to Chekov.

"I wouldn't have let you," Chekov assured him.

"I came back, though. To find you. It became clear pretty quickly that that thing wasn't the real deal, so I left, but I couldn't find you."

"I went back to the bridge for a while after you and the others had gone. You must have come back after I'd gone off to buy the sword."

Scotty frowned. "Buy the what?"

"We'll explain later," Jim said. "So, hang on, you were messing with some experimental, theoretical, potentially dangerous and very _illegal_ piece of tech?"

Scotty turned pink. "Oh, erm … maybe?"

"Scotty, really?"

"To be fair, it wasn't illegal because it wasn't real. Dangerous as all hell, clearly, but not real. It was incredibly unstable. I'm afraid whatever I did to it must've kicked loose whatever tenuous grasp it had on its own structural integrity, because minutes after I left the hut, _boom_."

"So, you weren't even there when it went off," Bones said. "We were worried sick over you, you know."

"Apologies. Nice to know you care, though."

"We could very well be in here because of that explosion," suggested Uhura. "Real or not, that thing was dangerous and could have killed somebody. And I'm pretty sure Seona's hover craft was damaged in the blast too. She wasn't with the group when they got that thing, maybe she's the one who called the authorities on them."

"She'd do that, call the cops on her friends?" asked Sulu. Uhura merely shrugged.

"It's not like she knows us very well, either," said Bones. "Maybe the reason we're all in here together for something only Scotty did is 'cause she thinks we're all in it together."

"I do not believe so," said Spock. "In this case, the other people involved would be our accomplices and would very likely be held in the same cell with us. If they are being held, they are clearly not here. I do not believe the explosion is why we have been arrested."

"I tend to agree," Jim said.

"What a surprise," Bones said. "This a vacation for the two of you or a goddamn honeymoon?"

"What?" Jim asked, frowning confusedly at Bones, but then Sulu spoke.

"So, what happens now? We've figured it out, or think we have. Is that what they were waiting for? For us to work it out on our own. Are we supposed to, I don't know, tell somebody?"

Jim glanced around the cell. There was nothing inside that could be used to communicate with the outside. Still, he wondered, and not for the first time, if they were being watched.

As if on cue, the red door opened and two Seronan officers walked toward the cell. Jim half expected to see Gaila being escorted in, but the officers had no one else with them.

"Will the one called Spock please come this way," said one of the officers.

Everyone looked at Spock in silence.

 _So, it begins,_ Jim thought. They'd want to interview, or rather interrogate, each one of them now, get each person's account of whatever it was they were being accused of. Jim met Spock's eyes, gave him a nod. Spock didn't look at all worried. Jim wasn't sure if Spock being the first interviewed was good or bad. While it was true that trying to ruffle him would fail more often than not and trying to trip him up in an argument was usually a fool's errand, the fact was the Seronans had six very flawed humans to get through after him. Perhaps Spock's cool, calm confidence was something that would be the most beneficial to the crew as a final impression, not a first.

Spock's gaze was steady. No one could know it, but something passed from Jim to Spock then. A message. A code. _You know what to do._ Spock merely nodded and then let the officers lead him away.

Jim watched helplessly as they disappeared behind the door. There was nothing to worry about, really. They'd done nothing wrong and Spock was the most straightforward, no-nonsense guy on the planet. There would be no misunderstandings with him.

There would, however, be a whole lot of honesty. That was the part that made Jim nervous.

"He really the best guy to go first?" asked Bones, who'd sidled up next to Jim.

"He'll be fine," Jim assured him, still staring at the closed red door.

"I'm just saying. He doesn't exactly get subtlety. Nuance. What if he insults them by accident? _We_ understand him. They don't. One of us should be in there with him."

"I'm pretty sure that's not an option. Besides, he'll be fine. He knows what he's doing." Though even as Jim said this, he thought back to Spock's rather blunt comment about humanoid remains being hard to find after the explosion, and his inability to comfort Jim after Jim had rejected everyone's company. He was straightforward all right.

"How can you be so sure?" Bones asked.

"I just know," Jim said, saying it as much to reassure himself as anyone else. "Have a little faith, Bones."

 

  
**Spock**   


Spock lowered the binoculars from his face and passed them off to Jim, who stood to his right. "Thoughts?" he asked.

Jim peered through the binoculars with his mouth slightly open. "Uhhh … it's an egg. A big, stone egg."

It was indeed. A rock, about six feet high and four feet wide at its widest part. It stood in the center of a vast field, floating several inches off the ground above a small, circular patch where grass wouldn't grow. They couldn't see the patch from where they stood, and could only just make out the space between the egg and the ground. They could see other tourists approaching the egg, standing close and staring, daring to touch it. Others stayed well back, merely talking about going closer.

"I don't see what the big deal is," Jim said, lowering the binoculars.

"It is a matter of opinion. Legend states that moving into the egg's sphere of energy can produce any number of results. Some claimed to have an abundance of good luck bestowed upon them after visiting the egg. Others, bad luck. Yet others merely received a message, seeing words appear in the egg's surface or hearing a voice in the strange hum the egg is said to emit if one listens closely enough."

"It's really tourist-y here," Jim muttered, glancing at the people scattered around them.

"You wanted to see this particular attraction."

"I know, I know. Well, we're here. Might as well go have a closer look."

"You are certain?"

Jim looked at Spock and smiled. "You're not afraid, are you, Spock?"

"No. I am merely curious about your own superstitions."

"I don't have any."

"Interesting. You normally do not hesitate to investigate when there is no need for caution, and even sometimes when there is. In this instance, if one is not superstitious, there is no need for caution, and yet here we stand. And here we have stood. For fifteen minutes."

"You calling me chicken?"

"If by 'chicken' you mean 'cowardly', then no. I am merely stating a fact."

"Your facts have a way of sounding awfully accusatory. We're going closer."

At that, Jim began stalking toward the egg. Spock looked left and then right as he followed, noticing the eyes watching them as they approached. Many tourists seemed highly superstitious and were clearly going nowhere near the egg. They seemed fairly conservative, what Jim might refer to as "uptight", a term he'd applied to Spock on more than one occasion. As they neared the egg, the tourists became less buttoned-up, seemed a little freer, a little more relaxed, both in dress and language. Dr. McCoy might refer to this group as "dirty hippies".

They came to stand less than ten feet away. The egg did appear to be floating of its own free will. Or perhaps the lack thereof; it wasn't clear what might be keeping it off the ground, its own strange power or some other force. It had been that way since its construction hundreds of years ago. Information about the people who'd constructed it was limited to the point of being useless. Attempts to move the egg had failed. Attempts to crack it open had failed. And everyone who had tried had an interesting story to tell. Anyone who had attempted to alter the egg's appearance or position in any way had a story that was less than pleasant. The bad luck stories followed these people. Was this a coincidence? A self-fulfilling prophecy?

"It's amazing," said a squeaky, breathy, female voice to their right. They glanced over to find a petite young woman with wild, curly, brown hair and large eyes staring in wonder at the egg. She was a frail-looking, pixie-like thing and seemed to be quivering like a nervous animal. Her cheeks glistened in the sun where tears had streaked down her face, and yet when she looked to Spock and Jim, she smiled at them.

"Isn't it breathtaking?" she sighed.

"It is something," Jim said, though Spock doubted Jim truly thought that. "Hi. Jim, Jim Kirk. This is Spock."

She waved a delicate little hand at them. "I'm Fee."

"It's had quite an effect on you, this thing."

"It has," she sniffled. "I came just to see, and now … now I know everything."

"Everything, huh? That's quite a lotta stuff."

"Go, Jim," Spock said quietly to him.

"What?"

"If you would like to speak more intimately with this woman, you may."

"I don't want to speak 'intimately' with her. But, you know, she seems to know a lot about this thing, maybe she can enlighten us a little."

Spock took a small step backward, placing himself just outside Jim's path to the woman. "You are concerned about leaving me to speak with someone else. Perhaps this is part of what Matra saw when she looked at us, this … connection."

" _Pfft_ , there is no connec …" Jim paused and sighed. "Okay, I'm going to talk to this woman, gather information. You hang tight, I'll be back in a sec."

Spock watched Jim step by him and go to join Fee. He observed them for a moment, the way Jim's demeanor shifted as soon as he was close to her. McCoy called it "swagger" and it was something that Spock still found perplexing. Flirtation in general was a tricky subject, one of those aspects of human interaction whose rules often seemed contradictory to the ultimate goal. Things like "playing hard to get" were highly confusing.

Spock's study of Jim's technique was interrupted when he detected a soft buzzing. But rather than an insect at his ear, it seemed to be inside his head, a low, barely perceptible hum. He slowly looked away from the couple to the egg.

He hadn't expected to hear anything here, but thinking back on the research he had done, it was usually those who expected very little from a visit with the egg who seemed to get the most out of it. He looked around and found nothing else that could be emitting the sound, not that the sound seemed to be coming from any one direction. It was everywhere. And nowhere. It was in his mind, and yet he knew he wasn't responsible for it.

He stepped closer to the egg, went right up to it, close enough to see the slight crystalline shimmer in its smooth, gray surface. It was otherwise unadorned by markings of any kind. There was a slight irregularity in its shape, a little wobble in arc of its surface, but other than that, it was just an egg. Spock wondered about the words people had claimed to see in it. He began to move around the egg, methodically searching for any blemishes that could be misconstrued as writing. He raised a hand and dragged his fingertips along the surface. It was cool for having been sitting out in the sun all day. He didn't know what that might mean.

He was coming back around to his starting position when he spotted him, a large man several yards away, eyes seemingly on Fee and Jim. Spock glanced at the pair and once again took note of the way Jim was interacting with the woman. Surely this wasn't what Matra had seen earlier. When Jim spoke to Spock, he was just Jim. No pretense, no tactics, no "swagger". Clearly Spock was too close to the situation to see it for what it was because he could not pinpoint what an outsider might see when observing him and Jim together. He could, however, see Jim and Fee quite clearly. And so could the very large man who was now stalking toward them.

Having decided that this man was most likely not Fee's older brother or any other relative or a platonic acquaintance, Spock stepped up to Jim and tapped him on the shoulder.

Jim stopped mid-sentence and looked back at him. He smiled and said, "Am I taking too long?"

"Hello," said Fee with a teary smile. "I hope I'm not keeping him."

"Not at all," Spock assured her. He then placed a hand on Jim's lower back as he continued speaking to her. "It is a pleasure to meet you. If I may ask, why have you come to view the egg?"

Jim frowned and tried to glance back at Spock's hand. "What're you doing?" he whispered. Spock ignored him.

"We've heard so many stories," Fee explained. "Actually, it was Jan who wanted to come. I didn't. I had no interest, but now I understand." She gazed up at the egg and smiled. "It's got all the answers."

"Fascinating," Spock said, snaking his arm a little further around Jim's waist and pulling him closer. Fee didn't seem to notice this, or if she did, she was unconcerned.

"What's the matter with you?" Jim hissed.

"I believe you will thank me later," Spock whispered back.

"What brings the two of you here?" Fee asked, but before Spock could reply, the large man who could only be Jan came lumbering up to them. When he took his place at Fee's side, Jim was clearly startled, actually taking a step back as though huddling into Spock's embrace.

Jan looked somewhat like the security officer Jim had dubbed Cupcake. Or who had dubbed _Jim_ Cupcake. Spock still wasn't clear on the exact details of their interaction.

"Can I help you, gentlemen?" asked Jan, a hand the size of Fee's entire head coming down to rest possessively on her small shoulder. Though he was asking to assist, there was nothing about him that suggested he wanted to help them.

Jim got his bearings quickly and replied, "Nope. Just having a talk with yourrrrrr … sister?"

"Girlfriend. And you can be on your way now."

Spock's attention was caught by movement down below; one of Jan's fists clenching. Spock heard his knuckles crack.

"Jan, stop it," Fee scolded. "We were just talking about how amazing the egg is."

"Sure, that's exactly what it looked like," Jan said, still glaring at Jim. Sarcasm, Spock thought.

 _"Jan,"_ Fee hissed, and when he looked down at her, she pointed at Jim and Spock. Jan's eye went where her skinny finger indicated and he saw it. Just in time too; his face had, by this point, turned a shade of red that could only be a prelude to an attack. Faces didn't turn such rich colors without something unpleasant occurring shortly thereafter. Jim sensed it to, the increasingly plausible blow to the face he might be just about to endure. Spock felt Jim's body tense, prepare itself to either absorb the hit or deflect it, and then strike back. Perhaps Spock's ploy had not worked. Perhaps Matra was the only one who saw whatever it was that she'd seen.

But then Jan's entire demeanor shifted. He stood up a bit straighter, his expression relaxing. "Oh," he said, his voice less like a growl now. He even managed a lopsided smile. "Sorry, I didn't realize …"

Jim relaxed, glanced down and back at Spock's arm, then up into Spock's eyes, understanding finally crossing his features. His lips curled into an affectionate smile and he slung his arm around Spock's shoulders as he looked to Jan and Fee again.

"Oh, did you think …?" he asked Jan innocently, pointing at Fee and then to himself. "Jeez, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you like that."

"Ah, 's no problem," Jan chuckled. "Hey, you guys wanna come grab a drink or something?"

"How did you know?" Jim asked as he and Spock walked away from the egg a few minutes later, having declined Jan's offer.

"How did I know what?"

"That that guy was coming to kick my ass."

Spock considered for a moment, then looked at Jim and replied, "You must promise to take what I say seriously."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Because. I believe it may have been the egg that informed me."

"… The egg …"

"Had I not heard what I believed to be the legendary hum, I would not have gone closer to the egg. I would not have begun to circle the egg and examine it more closely, and therefore would not have seen Jan approaching when I was coming back around." Spock paused and thought for a moment. "Of course, one could argue that had I not heard the hum, I would not have gone closer, would not have touched the egg, and therefore the entire incident may not have happened at all."

"You're suggesting that either the egg helped warn you or that your interference with the egg is what caused the incident in the first place."

"The latter is far less likely in my mind, but yes, that is the gist."

"You don't think your natural curiosity would have made you take a closer look anyway?"

"At this point, I cannot know."

"I don't think you give yourself enough credit. Maybe you sensed trouble. Maybe you just _felt_ something. You're more intuitive than I think you realize."

Spock frowned. "Did you not hear anything, Jim?"

"What? The humming? No, nothing."

But Jim had been distracted. Spock had been focused entirely on the egg and even he'd just barely heard the hum.

"So, I guess the whole planet thinks we're dating," Jim said with a smile.

"Indeed. I assumed if Matra could conclude that we are a couple based on virtually no solid evidence, then an overt sign would easily convince Jan and Fee. Although I cannot help but take note that Fee was not at all surprised when I stepped forward and touched you."

"Yeah," Jim said, frowning to himself. "That was weird." With a shrug, he added, "Thanks, by the way. For rescuing me back there."

"You are welcome, Jim. As I said before, perhaps it would be prudent to –"

"I'll tone down my natural charm from now on, I swear. I'm not even serious about all that, you know. It just sort of happens. It's like a reflex."

Spock examined Jim, silently urging him to continue.

"It's always been something of a go-to for me. My mother was always a pushover for it. I could stop her yelling at me with a few choice words and maybe a hastily-picked, if rather sad, little bouquet of flowers. My teachers were no different, even the males could be manipulated if I played my cards right. It's almost never about flirting … well, okay, sometimes it is, but it's like it's hardwired into my brain now. This is what works, this is how you get what you want, how you extinguish anger, how you charm people, how you get information out of certain people. I guess at some point it became my default. And my downfall; you have no idea how many boyfriends have tried to end me."

"Fascinating," Spock said. "I had always assumed the behavior was precipitated by genuine sexual interest, but now that you have mentioned it, it does seem too easy for you to switch the behavior on and off for it to always be genuine. A coping mechanism."

Jim frowned. "God, you sound like a counselor. Like Bones when he starts in with his therapist schtick. Stop it."

"Have you discussed this with Dr. McCoy?"

"Nope. I don't think I've discussed that with anyone 'til now. Don't even know why I mentioned it." Jim smiled at him. "You see that? That's why I'm with you today. You relax me." He frowned. "Enough to make all kinds of things come out of my mouth, apparently."

"You seem uncertain as to whether that is good or bad."

"Haven't decided yet. But I'll tell you this: I think we just blew that bad luck myth out of the water." Jim jerked his thumb back in the direction of the egg. "What happened back there was actually pretty lucky."

"Depending on one's perception, yes."

"Oh, come on, you don't still seriously think that egg tried to screw us over just because you touched it, do you?"

"I do not know. But if that is the case, and what just occurred was the worst the egg had in store, then I do not believe we have anything more to be concerned about."

 

* * *

Well, Spock had been wrong before.

Not that Jim truly believed they'd all been apprehended due to some urban legend about bad luck, but even he could admit it was an interesting coincidence. But that was all it was; a coincidence.

"They've been gone forever," Bones grumbled. Now he'd begun pacing, casting evil glances at the red door at the end of the hall outside the cell. "What could they possibly be asking him? He's not exactly the best conversationalist. If anybody's gonna give a short, sweet interview, it's Spock."

"Relax, Bones," said Jim, who'd taken up Bones's vacated seat. He sat with his legs outstretched and crossed one over the other, his arms folded over his chest, head against the cold wall at his back. "He'll be fine."

"It wasn't him I was concerned about."

The others – Scotty, Uhura, Sulu and Chekov – were huddled together on another bench, murmuring to one another. Jim could only hope they weren't working themselves up the way Bones was. Then a few giggles sounded from the group and Jim glanced over to see them smiling at each other as they talked. Jim smiled too, watching them fondly and suddenly feeling a sense of loss. As captain, there was always going to be a certain distance between himself and his crew, and in this moment he felt that distance more strongly than ever. Could he go over and sit with them, join in the conversation, have a laugh? Sure, he could. But the very nature of his presence would change them, put them on their guard. That was simply the way of it. Maybe they had that effect on him as well. Maybe that had been part of the reason he'd chosen to shun their company today.

But did it have to be that way? Yeah, it did. He wasn't meant to pal around with them, not in the same way that they could with each other.

Jim stood and went to Bones, who stopped pacing and looked at him expectantly.

"I want a do-over," Jim said.

"Beg pardon?"

"Today. I want to start today over. Can I do that? Think Scotty can whip up a time machine or something?"

"This isn't your fault, Jim. These people are adults – well, mostly."

"Stop it, Chekov'll hear you."

Bones arched an eyebrow. "I wasn't only talking about the kid. Scotty could stand to grow up a little himself. Listen, if they run off and get in trouble, it's not 'cause you weren't watching them. That's not your job, especially not on vacation. You're not their goddamn father."

"I know, that's not what I meant. I just mean … I can never really be their friend, can I?"

Bones considered. "You _are_ their boss. It's always gonna be a little awkward."

"I wish it didn't have to be."

"So, this funk you've fallen into all of a sudden has nothing to do with you thinking you could've prevented all this?"

"Well … maybe a little. But I'm not wrong. Even if I'm not directly responsible for this mess, the fact is that any one of us making a different choice at some point today could've spared us all this little adventure. We learned that lesson before, didn't we? That making a minor change can drastically alter the course of events."

"Jim," Bones said, laying a hand on Jim's shoulder, "thinking like that can drive a man insane. Don't do it. It's just another road to needless self-blame. It's self-indulgent horse shit."

Jim smiled. "I can always count on you to put things in perspective. You know, I might've tagged along with you to that art thing today if I hadn't known you and Spock would be at each other's throats all day long."

Bones waved a hand to dismiss Jim's apology. "Forget it. You were right to leave me be. I needed a little solitude myself. And you're right, Spock and I encourage a lot in each other, but relaxation isn't on that list."

All talk and movement in the room ceased when the red door slid open and two Seronan officers strode in. Spock wasn't with them, of course. They wouldn't be allowed to see him again until everyone had been interviewed. There was no way for them to find out what Spock had said in there.

Well, what Spock had said was surely just the truth. Spock wasn't a liar. Of course, as Jim thought back to the incident with the egg he took note of how easily Spock had lied there, having no qualms about convincing Jan and Fee that he and Jim were a couple. Perhaps a life and death situation called for a more lenient definition of the word "lie".

The force field was disengaged and one of the officers called for Scotty to go next. Jim's eyes found Scotty and his heart thumped a little too forcefully as Scotty gave the others a reassuring smile, then stood and crossed the room to be escorted out.

This went on for another hour at least, the final interview being Jim's, and it went surprisingly smoothly. Jim supposed he'd had no reason to expect to be hassled. Still, the lack of suspicion from his interviewers only made Jim wonder even more what the others had told them.

"Now that we're clear of the building," Jim said as the seven of them walked together toward the beach and the resort where they were staying, "was anyone actually told anything? What do they think happened?"

"Does it matter?" Bones asked. "They know we're innocent, they let us go."

"I need to know. I don't like loose ends. What the hell happened in there? What did everybody tell them?"

Everyone answered at the same time, making it difficult to hear, but the gist of their chatter was that they simply told the truth.

"That can't be exactly right," Jim pointed out. "If we all told the truth, then surely Scotty would still be in there right now, being held for tampering with illegal technology. They didn't even ask me about him."

"Well, I didn't tell them all that, did I?" Scotty said, sounding affronted.

"You didn't tell them what, that the thing that exploded was illegal?"

"No, I didn't tell them that I knew it was illegal. What sort of a glaikit fool do you take me for?"

Jim didn't even know what that was, let alone what sort Scotty might be. "But that's not the truth, Scotty. You lied to them and could've gotten into far deeper trouble if caught."

"Well, yeah, but what was the alternative? Besides, I didn't _exactly_ tell them I didn't know. They, erm, _gathered_ that on their own from what I said."

"And what did you say?"

"That a Starfleet officer would never deliberately walk into a situation that he knew bloody well was illegal. Which is supposed to be the case, isn't it? I should've known better, and I did, really. The point is, what they got from my statement was exactly what they needed to get, full stop. Now then, where are we going for supper?"

"Hold on," Jim said. "Spock, what'd you say to them? Surely you didn't lie."

"No, I did not," Spock replied. "I did as Mr. Scott did. I allowed the interviewers to infer from my statements what they needed to. They asked if Mr. Scott had been aware of the illegality of the device the Glabrosians showed him before he went with them. I responded that they would have to ask him, which is true, they would have to interview each of us in turn. I did not say that I did not know the answer to their question and therefore I did not lie."

Jim grinned and shot Bones a smug I-told-you-so look. Bones merely rolled his eyes.

"I still say he could've gotten us all into deeper trouble with one wrong word," he said.

"What about Chekov?" Jim asked. "He was technically at fault for even entertaining the notion of going into a duel. What'd you say about him?"

"I believe that that is the least of their concerns after what they may have inferred from my statements."

Bones looked at Spock. "My god, man, what did you do?"

"They asked why Mr. Scott and Mr. Chekov had become separated? I replied that Mr. Scott had been apprehended by a band of Glabrosians intent on showing him a piece of technology. They asked if anyone else had interacted with Mr. Chekov after Mr. Scott's departure. I replied that Miss Uhura had spoken with him briefly, during which time her would-be suitor, Seona, would observe her and fall under the impression that Mr. Chekov was her lover." Spock stared innocently up into the starry sky. "They seemed to infer somehow that Mr. Scott had been taken away on purpose by Seona's colleagues in order to deliberately isolate Mr. Chekov so that someone, either Seona or another of her colleagues, could challenge him to a duel to determine the most worthy candidate for the hand of Miss Uhura."

"What?" Uhura asked in surprise. " _That's_ what they were thinking when they interviewed me?"

"I believe so."

"That's why they asked me all those questions about Seona! I was completely honest about the fact that I didn't think she had anything to do with it. Why did they seem to believe me?"

"I may have led them to believe that you still had confidence in Seona's innocence and that your word should perhaps not be taken at face value. Which is, of course, also true."

"Spock, if she gets in trouble because of us –"

"It'll be a cryin' shame," said Bones, "but not our problem."

"Besides," said Jim to Uhura, "you came to the same conclusion earlier. Even you considered, just for a second, that maybe Seona had been the one to threaten Chekov. Remember, when you asked him what color his challenger's bathing suit was?"

Uhura looked away from Jim and stuck her nose in the air. "Well … I had to make sure."

"So, that's your idea of not lying?" Bones asked Spock. "Deliberately leading them to think things that aren't true?"

Spock shrugged. "There are times when creative interpretation is necessary, Doctor."

"Creative interpretation."

"I did not speak any direct untruths. Therefore, I did not lie. In this case, that interpretation of the word 'lie' sufficed."

"So, lies of omission didn't factor in?"

"I did not omit any information. I answered what was asked of me. Nothing more, nothing less."

And that was what he'd done with Jan and Fee as well. He hadn't lied. He hadn't said a word about his relationship with Jim. He'd allowed them to draw their own conclusions and had neither confirmed, nor denied them. A mere hand on Jim's back wasn't technically a declaration of anything.

Bones smirked and said, "That's your opinion. But it's an opinion I can get behind, I s'pose … Good god, I think you're finally starting to make sense to me." He glanced around at the expanse of Seronan sky above them. "This is a damn dangerous place."

"So, hang on," said Uhura. "We still don't know what exactly prompted the duel challenge in the first place."

"We may never know," said Sulu. "If we haven't figured it out by now, we probably never will."

"If only we could find the woman who challenged him," Uhura said.

"I would rather not, thank you," Chekov said. Jim, who was walking behind him, smiled to himself and resisted the urge to reach out and rumple Chekov's hair.

They walked companionably together in small groups, Uhura with Sulu, Scotty with Chekov, and Bones and Spock on either side of Jim. It wasn't until the resort appeared on the dark horizon that the eighth in their party, Gaila, appeared sprinting away from the building toward them.

"Where have you all been?" she asked, the worry evident in her voice and in her eyes as she neared them. "What happened? Were you all arrested? I was approached by two officers today, but luckily I was able to, um, convince them they didn't need to take me with them." She cleared her throat and looked guiltily around at all of them.

"You danced for them, didn't you?" Uhura asked knowingly.

"I may have used my considerable charm to make them see sense, yes," Gaila replied with the chin up. "Well, what would you have done? I mean, if you were me and had the option to, shall we say, distract them enough to make them forget their original intent."

Uhura shook her head. "You're a sneaky one, Gaila. Oh, by the way, nice little joke you played on me today."

"What joke?"

"Seona. The Glabrosian woman who hit on me."

Jim frowned at this. He looked to Gaila and she looked just as surprised as he felt.

"Well, somebody had an adventure," Gaila said, finally smiling. "Was she pretty?"

"Oh, like you don't know. Well, the joke's on you, because she was lovely and we had a wonderful conversation."

Gaila cocked her head. "Nyota, I have no idea what you're talking about."

Uhura patted Gaila's arm. "Of course you don't, sweety."

As they walked, Jim and Spock drifted slightly away from the group, and finally Spock asked, "Did you have a pleasant enough afternoon before the incarceration?"

"I did," Jim replied. "You know, to be perfectly honest I had an okay time during the incarceration too. It wasn't how I'd have chosen to spend the day, no, but …" He sighed. "Okay, I admit it. I liked having everyone gathered together, even if it was in jail. Maybe I was too hard on them all earlier."

"Is there any particular reason you did not wish to be in their company today?"

"I guess I felt a bit crowded. I'm responsible for so much, so much of the time. I didn't want to have to hold anybody's hand today."

"And yet you did not seem to mind having me along."

No. Because Spock was different. Because he was as close to being Jim's equal as any officer below Jim could get. Because despite their differences, somehow they complemented one another. And Jim simply enjoyed his company.

But rather than admit all that, Jim said, "Leaving you alone was never an option, Spock."

"May I ask why?"

"Because you need someone to look out for you." Jim smiled at him and even managed to get a corner of Spock's mouth to twitch upwards. "By the way, thanks for saving my ass twice today, once from a beating and once from the law."

"You are quite welcome."

Jim then looked to the others walking ahead of them, quietly admiring each of them. Sulu, Uhura and Gaila chatted with each other while Chekov and Scotty walked in companionable silence. It was now that Jim noticed Chekov's hands. The nervous fidgeting had returned.

"That boy's gonna give himself an ulcer by the time he's thirty," Jim muttered. Then more loudly, "Hey, Chekov."

Chekov spun around and walked backwards to face Jim. "Yes, sir?"

"What on earth are you doing with your hands?"

Chekov looked at his hands. "Was I doing it again?"

"You're always doing it. What is that?"

"Nervous tic, sir." He started doing it again, this time on purpose to show Jim the progression of his nail swiping – right hand first, index, middle, ring and pinkie nails all swiped by the thumb, and the thumb nail swiped by the index. Then the left hand, same pattern. "It calms me. Or helps me think or something. I have to do each finger at least once, go back and start again if I screw it up."

Jim grinned at him. "You're just full of adorable quirks, aren't you?"

"You know, they make medications for that kinda thing, kid," Bones said, and Jim knew he was only half joking.

"That looks familiar," Uhura said, catching a glimpse of Chekov's demonstration. She stopped and so did everyone else. "Do it again."

Chekov showed her and she clamped a hand over her mouth.

"What?" asked Jim.

"Pavel, you were doing that when I went up to you on the bridge. Were you doing that after I left, just before you got challenged by that woman?"

"Maybe," Chekov said with a shrug. "I can't remember."

"I'll bet that's it." Uhura looked at Jim. "That gesture means nothing to us, but in Glabrosian it's … it's not good. I can't even repeat it. If that woman saw it from a distance and thought it was directed at her …"

Murmurs rippled through the group, some amused, some annoyed. A "you've gotta be kidding me" came from Bones, while Scotty laughed his ass off.

"No need to call your fidgeting adorable ever again, laddie," he said to Chekov. "Now, we can refer to it as friggin' deadly."

Chekov's smile was half regretful, half rather pleased as they all started walking again. Jim knew that Chekov would take "friggin' deadly" over "adorable" any day.

"What are you so nervous about, anyway, Chekov?" Bones asked.

"Nothing," Chekov replied mysteriously, but his hands were at it again, only stopping when he consciously made the effort to keep them still.

Bones might not have remembered, or even heard that part of Sulu's tale, but Jim remembered it. Chekov had told Sulu that he was anxious because he'd been trying to work out how to tell someone how he felt he about them. Jim had assumed his target had been Uhura, but as everyone broke off into smaller groups again, it became clear where Chekov's interest lay. He stayed near Scotty. He didn't even look at Uhura.

Jim was just wondering if Scotty had any clue as to how Chekov felt when Scotty reached over and took Chekov's hand.

"Stop that," Scotty murmured. "You're wearing the bloody things out. Buffed 'em to a high polish already, you better quit while you're ahead."

Jim couldn't see Chekov's face, but if it was possible to feel contentment radiating from someone, then Jim was certain he was feeling it right now. Had they been together this whole time? No, there was something shy and questioning about the way they looked at each other then, as though something brand new was being established between them.

"Definitely not so bad," Jim said to himself, "having someone's hand to hold. Might even keep you out of jail."

"Sorry, Jim?" asked Spock.

"I'll tell you later. Hey, let's all do something together tomorrow. Preferably something that doesn't involve a communal toilet."

END


End file.
